Mourners
by Tetsuwan Penguin
Summary: A grieving man and a young boy comfort each other on the anniversary of their loved ones deaths.


**Mourners**

 **My Wife** I had checked into a ryokan with our good friends Bill and June Trout. While officially located in the Tokyo prefecture, it was far from the crowd of the busy Metropolis in an area with lots of trees and running streams. Not quite yet spring, but no longer deep into winter either, there were still patches of snow cover on the ground, yet it was clear that the cherry blossoms were not long from blooming either. The sky was clear, and there was almost no wind, perfect weather to enjoy the beauty of the countryside in winter.

After having a light dinner meal in the ryokan's dinning area just off the main lobby, we returned to our rooms to finish our unpacking. Packed with my toiletries, I found the memorial candle that I'd hidden in there and I found a safe place to set it on a corner table. Sighing to myself, I lit the candle. My mother's Yahzreit period would be officially starting at sundown on the US east coast in about 12 hours from that moment, but I was now on Japanese time, so I began my observance of her memorial anniversary at that instant.

I noticed that my wife was still unpacking her stuff, so I commented, "I think I'll go and check out the Onsen."

"You're going to use the outdoor bath now?" Robin asked.

"No, I'll wait till just before bed time, I just want to see what the facilities look like," I replied.

On the way outside, I bumped into Bill Trout, who was also taking an after diner hike around the Inn. Bill was self taught fluent in Chinese, and he could read a lot of kanji. While he didn't know the Japanese pronunciation of any of the Chinese characters on the various signs and placards around the area, he did know what they were 'saying', since, at least for most nouns, the meaning of kanji in both Chinese and Japanese is often similar.

We followed the path that led to the Onsen, the hot water in the stream left a thin fog of rising steam above it. Continuing a bit further we came to a narrow path leading into a wooded area. "What's that way?" I asked Bill, pointing at a sign written in Kanji. "Some temple or shrine," Bill said, "I can't read the name of it, just what it is."

"Think I'll check that out," I said.

Bill motioned to me that he was heading back to the Inn, so I proceeded along the path by myself. I soon found myself in a small bamboo structure that was obviously kept in constant repair, as it showed no sign of being affected by the elements. A small crowd of worshipers had gathered in the growing twilight of the approaching night, in what seemed to be a prayer candle lighting ceremony. A pair of priests were officiating the proceedings, handing out candles and blessings. I looked over the crowd, which mostly consisted of elder men and women. However, off to one side, I noticed a boy of about nine or ten years old. He was dressed in short blue pants that came up to midway between the tops of his red boots and his knees, and a red shirt, he was holding a newly lit tallow stick in one hand, while cupping the flame with the other to shield it from any breeze. His cheeks were moist from tears as he walked towards me and the exit of the building.

The sight of the weeping child touched my heart, and almost brought me to tears as my thoughts returned to my mother's memory. I wanted to reach out to him. "Do san desu ka?, I stammered, trying to put together a sentence using what little I knew of the native tongue.

I guess he could tell by my accent I was an American, and it soon became clear to me that he knew English better than I knew Japanese. "I'm sad because today is the anniversary of my mother's passing," he said.

So this was a memorial prayer meeting, I guessed. "It's the anniversary of my mom's death also," I replied.

"Then we should light a candle for you too," the boy offered, and he grabbed me by the hand, and pulled me towards the priests to obtain another stick of wax. I was handed a candle, and the boy lit mine from the flame of the one he was holding. "Now follow me to the river," he said.

We joined a procession of worshipers leaving the temple, and headed down a narrow path leading towards the river. Now some distance from where the flowing waters feed the Inns baths, the stream was cooler, without any steam rising from its surface. Here the mourners placed their candles into small boats made from bamboo sticks, leaves and twine. I watched as the lad placed his stubby candle into a boat and set it adrift. I carefully tipped my candle to pour a few drops of molten wax into the bottom of a boat, and then set the candle into the puddle to cement it in place. I recalled the Hebrew words to the mourners kaddish, and recited them to myself before setting my floating light into the river, allowing it to join the procession of lights.

"What was your mother's name?" I asked the boy.

"Hoshie," he said, wiping the tears from his face with his hand. I dug into my pocket for a Kleenex, and handed it to him. "Yours?" he asked.

"Rachel," I replied. "She died of a stroke about a decade ago.," I sighed.

"That's what took my mother too," the boy replied. "I got the best surgeon in the world to try to cure her, but to no avail."

"I guess when God decides it's our time, there's nothing we can do to change that," I said, holding back my own tears.

He smiled, and suddenly wrapped his arms around me, and I returned the favor. "I needed a hug," he said.

"Yeah, I guess I did too, arigatogozaimashita", I answered. We started to go our separate ways, when he suddenly turned and asked, "What's you name mister?"

"Alvin Peng," I replied, "and you?"

"Atomu," he answered.


End file.
